The Fearsome Tailor
by patchworkdove
Summary: A Watchmen/Golden Compass x-over challenge from the kinkmeme. After many patrols, Nite Owl II is concerned that he still hasn't seen Rorschach's daemon and tries to persuade his fearsome partner that it would be safe to bring her upstairs, whatever she is


Daniel had never been afraid of Rorschach's mask, or particularly scared of the man himself in truth. It was strange mask for a strange man, both being well beyond the realms of normality, but Daniel was an academic. All things had an explanation, and the unusual represented something new to analyse and investigate. Even thinking of dust itself had quietly occupied his thoughts from time to time. He liked to keep a busy mind.

It was the man's lack of a daemon which caused him the small amount of disquiet he felt. At first, he had thought that perhaps Rorschach's daemon kept well back on patrol. That perhaps his daemon was some creature ill-suited to the street fights they frequently found themselves in, or maybe his daemon was too recognisable. Dalese, Daniel's own daemon, wore a disguise of her own, even though she admitted it was a pain to have to re-organize her feathers afterwards. As a kakapo ground parrot, she already looked enough like an owl that with some of Dan's ingenuity, no-one would be the wiser. Suited up, Dalese looked like some great, terrifying eagle-owl, and in the confines of the back alleys they patrolled, her flightlessness went unnoticed. Her grasping claws were not savage talons but they worked well enough on her opponents, and her powerful, crushing beak made short work of everything from brazil nuts to bones.

But after many patrols, Rorschach's daemon remained elusive. Even after Daniel pushed back his cowl and introduced himself properly, Rorschach remained as unmoved as ever. His partner didn't seem surprised when Dalese, stripped of her owl suit, climbed up onto the kitchen table in typical beak-as-a-third-limb parrot fashion to hunker over Dan's steaming mug of coffee.

"Your daemon is welcome too, you know." He'd offered, quietly filling one of the silences that sometimes outweighed the words of their conversations. He was afraid that Rorschach's daemon was still in the basement, hiding away. Huddled behind the door in the dark.

"Understood." Was the man's enigmatic response.

Weeks later, they were finishing up a fight on the rooftops down by the docks when a young punk made an almost lucky swing for Rorschach's face. Nite Owl watched his partner duck under the blow with inhuman reflexes, but the thrown fist clipped the brim of his trademark fedora and flipped it from his head.

Rorschach roared and slammed an especially brutal punch into his opponent's unprotected face as the harsh winter wind snatched the hat away, tumbling it across the wet roof like the last of autumn's leaves. Daniel was overcome with an irrational need to catch the fedora at all costs, and instantly threw his own thug aside to take the two long strides that took him to the edge of the roof. His arm snapped out, leaning dangerously over the precipice as his gauntleted fingers raked the air. He snatched it by the brim.

Taking a step back to distance himself from the yawning chasm between the warehouse roofs, he first looked around to confirm that the fight was over, and then turned his attention to the hat he'd just risked life and limb to save.

Something furry was lurking in its depths, cowering away from the wind and rain. As he looked closer, trying to make sense of what he was looking at, long, red and black legs unfurled like the fingers of a relaxing fist. One of the cautiously reaching, glossy-haired limbs touched Daniel's thumb. It was feather-light and through the gloves he couldn't feel it at all. If he hadn't been watching it happen, he wouldn't even have known that he was touching someone else's daemon. He was touching Rorschach's daemon!

He became aware of Rorschach standing beside him, and although he meant to apologise, all he could do was gape wordlessly. Dalese fidgeted in manifestation of Daniel's underlying nervousness, but his partner stood unthreateningly still, hands in the deep pockets of his trench.

After what seemed like an eternity, the large tarantula retreated to the deepest recesses of the spider-silk lined fedora and Dan finally felt as though he could move again. He passed the hat back to its owner, and "She's beautiful." was all he could think to say.

Rorschach gently settled the fedora back in place on top of his head. "Most people are afraid of spiders, Nite Owl."


End file.
